


Where you are

by Hecker (MainstreamHecker)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Dystopia, Gen, Illustration, Let Springer have a mom, Let Springer say Ma, Seizures, shouts to the void
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9799655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MainstreamHecker/pseuds/Hecker
Summary: ....The city of Adertois rose high in the background, blinding fluorescent light blended into flashing neon the lower it goes. The brightness casting even darker shadows in the gutters, cloaking them like a shameful mistake.Springer hefted his pack higher up his back, Tarantulas copying the gesture. A wave of nostalgia washed over him."Well," Springer held his chin up high. "Here we are again."....A.k.a. Tarantulas need a bit of help. Springer went to a backpack roadtrip with his mom





	1. Here we are

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: a probably inaccurate depiction of a mentally ill person. Butchery of the english language to make an 'accent'. Plot baiting. Blatant disregard of canon. 
> 
>  
> 
> What AU is this? *shrugs* I just want Springer to call Tula mom.
> 
> The story will come in three chapters, arranged as such: scene 1- flashback 1- scene 2- scene 3- flashback 2- scene 4- flashback 3
> 
> But my muse came like this; end note 3- flashback 3- scene 1- flashback 2- scene 3- scene 2- scene 4- flashback 1
> 
> Not that its of any importance but I would appreciate any help with this mess. I'm so tired but I need this off my chest for a while. Life is holding me in a chokehold and this is my last message in the bottle.
> 
> I'll have something to say by the end of this, and it'll be... intense.

* * *

 

 

  
Springer faltered as the light blinked off and on again, longer this time. Not that he needed to see, familiarity functioned as his safety belt. He descended the stairs, skillfully avoiding the every weak link, skipping the missing bars here and there. By the time landed, the brave bulb finally gave up, drenching him in darkness.

  
Worry came with the shadows, his steps echoed ominously.

  
"Ma?" Anxiety made him call out. His fingers graze and trace every notch on the walls, feet stepping over the rubbles. He could see light shining from the next corridor, easing some of his distress. At least they haven't been cut off entirely.

  
In fact, as he took the next turn, he saw only one room lit up. There was a sparking noise coming out of it, the smell of burning metal tickled his nose as he came closer. Springer gave a silent sigh of relief, today was a good day it seem.

  
"I'm bac- MA!!"

  
"Hmmm?"

  
Springer yanked Tarantulas from his project on the table, careful with the still lit welder. "Ma, you can't weld without your face shield. Remember? Protection? Safety is not optional."

  
He searched the room, distracted enough that he jumped at the sound of welding. Springer pulled him away again.

  
"Wait. Wait. I'm almost done."

  
"I don't care Ma, you have to-"

  
He was welding the face shield itself. Springer sighed. Tarantulas took the momentary distraction to finish off the last bit, then he shoved the hunk of a metal to Springer's face.

  
"I made you a present~" he sang. The metal still red with heat.

  
Springer sputtered. "Ma!"

  
He was hushed with a finger to his lips. Hands pushed him down, urging him to sit on the floor. Springer stood a head and shoulder taller, twice his width, and his legs weigh as much as Tarantulas himself. He sat with a resigned sigh.

  
"Ma, where do you even find these stuff? We don't need any of this." He ducked and bend with every urging. Tarantulas moving him like a puppet as he arrange his body to his liking. There was a clattering of tools before he suddenly went still.

  
"...Ma?"

  
"Wha- what?" He looked around, confused. Eyes on Springer, then the armor, and finally on the wrench on his hand before realization hit. "Oh right. I made this for you, love. Armor. Present. I made present armor. Paramour. Heh."

  
"I already have one."

  
"Nonsense, you'll die within seconds in this derelict world with that tin foil."

  
"I'm alive now aren't I?"

  
"Yes, and I'm keeping. You. That way," he grunted, straining to loosen a bolt on Springer's chassis. He rose up to his knees and pushed his weight on the wrench. Springer nudged him away with a hand on his elbow and did it himself. It turned the other way around.

  
"Did you at least made some for yourself?"

  
"Hm? What for?"

  
"Ma..."

  
"Oh I had so much planned for you." he fluttered around once the last bolt was loosened, using a screwdriver to release the old chassis from it's slot, placing the new one in its place."I was thinking maybe a triple changer. Something mobile and compact. Maybe a rotary if you want. An aquatic alt mode is too, bleh. But. If you want, we'll make it work."

  
Springer held out his arms next, flaring his plates wide and exposing the inner circuitry. He took the heavy vambrace from Tarantulas and deftly slid it into the proper notches and slot. The last hinge went into his elbow joint, Tarantulas screwed in a nut and Springer clamped his plating shut with a satisfying click.

  
"This much plating is pushing it Ma. You could have taken some for yourself." The whirl and click of his inner mechanism came more muffled than before as he shifted his arm to test the fluidity. Pointing his fingers to the ceiling, opening and closing his fist as Tarantulas moved on to his next arm.

  
A snort. "And leave you half done? I thought you know me better than that."

  
"Apparently I don't know that much if I never noticed your little project."

  
"If we stayed a little longer you would... Um." hands faltered on his knee. "We needed to... So I..." he trailed off again, suddenly limp halfway to screwing a bolt. Springer caught the wrench from the lax hand, ready with a bracing arm across his shoulder when he give a full body twitch, limbs jerking and eyes spitting out static.

  
Tarantulas rebooted slowly. Springer let out a breath at the sound of CPU and engine coming to life. The brief moment of lifeless silence was always stretched longer with the company of trepidation.

  
A hand touched his new chassis. "This looks like my face shield..."

  
Springer laughed softly and kissed his head. "It does doesn't it Ma?"

  
"Oh... did I fell asleep again?"

  
"It's okay Ma, you need some rest." He reached into a subspace and pulled out a cube of energon, only slightly curdled. Actually. He pulled a face and swiped the pieces of silicon from the top layer of gunk. There. The best fuel they had had in a while.

  
Tarantulas took it with a dubious look, "Did you refuel yet sweetspark?"

 

"Yes, Ma." Technically it wasn't a lie. He meanly hoped his processor was still too scrambled to remember the flow of time.

  
After a moment of staring contest where Springer almost burst with guilt, Tarantulas finally acquiesced. Further proving the extent of his fatigue. Springer finished up the last of the upgrade, standing and stomping his feet. More out of routine instead of anything else, he never doubted that Tarantulas was going to settle for anything less than perfect.

  
The light flickered and Tarantulas jumped, coughing as energon flowed into his vents.

  
"Hey, hey it's okay Ma," he hushed. "How about you recharge. Leeway is gonna take off early tomorrow. I'll finish up the rest."

  
He rubbed the trembling back until it stilled. Taking the half empty cube and gently propping his head on a block of rubble. Today was not a good day after all.

  
Springer threw back the last of the energon, chewing on the rubbery gunk as he worked to sort out their possessions. As generous Leeway was to them, there was only so much hospitality he could spare to a pair of stowaway. Not to mention they had to walk the rest of the way themselves.

  
After storing the last of the tool away, he lit a lantern, placing it next to Tarantulas. Reaffirming that he was asleep, he sneaked outside. Wincing with every step. His new build clearly not made with stealth in mind.

  
The rest of the hallway was pitch black. Springer's brow furrowed as he made way to the engine/workroom, switching on his light. His steps faltered in surprise inside the room. Where before the abandoned research base was littered with broken instruments and barely functioning apparatus it was now bare. The monitor hung awkwardly above what was once a console. The multitude of workbenches gone, as well as everything on it. The reinforced wall of the test chamber gaped hole shamelessly.

  
Now he knew where his armor came from.

  
Springer ran his fingers on the edge of a CPU naked of its plating, spitting sparks everywhere, reminiscing the time he would sit and watch Tarantulas' agile hands danced on the circuit board or machinery of whatever commission he was doing for a client.

  
He scolded himself for ever thinking that he was the only one to miss home. This was the longest they had gone without going nomad. When they had dug up the place the first time, it was a supposed to be temporary haven. As luck would have it, no other stragglers like them had found it, nobody would have known that the wreckage of the research facility had anything salvageable. But they did and they thrived from it.

  
Until one day it's not enough. He had been so worried after being fired from the construction site, running around like a headless drone from alleyway to alleyway looking for a way to sustain them. Barely at home before he was out again. His mismatch armor proof of how much he had been away that he never noticed it's creation, its weight suddenly heavier at the realization.

  
In the end it was Tarantulas that found them a way out. The energy crisis struck citywide, the poor got poorer and nobody was willing pay a monoformer with a shady background, especially with the enforcers spreading their tendrils to the once forgotten city of Ankain. The one that did, he wasn't willing to sink that low. Yet.

  
While he had been scrapping the bottom of the barrel for income, Tarantulas was prepared to leave. Knowing there was nothing left for them here and yet he managed to pack up whatever pieces of home to bring with them. Literally. Springer knew for a fact that building, creating, and fixing was important for him. It was the only time his head would flow without a glitch, when he would be closest to the person that Springer dreamt of in his sleep. Passionate. Smart. Happy. But he tore it apart to build this protection around him.

  
Springer walked to the power generator, the only other source of light in the room. The fuel tube glowing with energy. The monitor overhead indicated that the electricity had been redirected and prioritized to the smelting chamber. He sighed. If only Tarantulas can make an armor that can protect him from this painful constriction around his spark.

 

His hand on the fuel tube, the angry voiced in his head hissed, halting him in hesitation. The heat in his palm seductive, homesick while still in his home. But he remembered Tarantulas begging at Leeway.

 

"Ain't nothing left here," he had said apologetically after informing of his leave. Tarantulas was groveling at his feet and Springer was trying to make him stand up. He was their regular patron, their main source of income.

 

"Y'all some good folks," comforted Leeway, "but nobody smart enough an' lucky enough gonna risk their tailpipe here, especially with em senate making those grabby hands."

 

Tarantulas begged for them to join his crew of cargo dealers and he looked away guiltily. Springer understood. They need the best crew for the least cost, a multitasker with the least fuel intake preferably, not something for a monoformer and a glitched scientist. When he pleaded for him to take only Springer at least Leeway finally broke before Springer could say that he was not going to leave without Tarantulas anyway.

 

"There's this thing," he chewed his cygar and looked around cautiously. "Somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Now y'all heard nothin from me, but word is there's this whole group of neutral scientists that may or may not be north to the Tempest Plateau. If that kinda thing exist I reckon they could use a good head or two."

 

It was hardly the first time they had to move, leave everything they had behind. But it was the heaviest he had felt. The glowing light shone from between his fingers and reflected on the irregular weld marks on his vambrace.

 

"Goodbye," whispered Springer as he unplugged the tube. The room plunged further into darkness.

 

* * *

 

_~~~~_

_Mesothulas should have known this would have happened. All his lifeworks had been based on the accurate predictions with the given variables and hypotheses._

_  
Subject no. 1: A successful creation of a self sustaining living organism. Subject tested positive for emotional response, physical stimulations, and a proficient mental capabilities._

_  
Subject no. 2: Piston change. A known uncomfortable routine procedure._

_  
Now here he was after disregarding the logical equation of social ethics, with a shivering protoform hiding beneath gap under the explosion chamber. He could feel his professor laughing and bringing up all his absence in Moral Philosophy class._

_  
Mesothulas had gone to lengths explaining to him the importance of changing pistons, to encourage him to come out or at least bore him enough to sleep. He peeked back under. A pair of distrustful eyes glowed back at him._

_  
"Darling, it's not going to hurt this time I promise," he soothed._

_  
A datapad slid from the gap, the screen filled with a full length essay calling him out for his slag._

_  
"Okay, okay, it will. But just a bit! You want your new upgrade don't you?"_

_  
Another datapad slid out. Where did he keep getting them, Mesothulas have to clean up the place some time soon. This time there was a crude picture drawn on it, either a submarine or a satellite. Mesothulas sighed. Not the alt mode argument again._

_  
"Whatever you want sweetspark, but you need to come out first. Your body can't bear your weight if we don't change your pistons."_

_  
Silence._

_  
"Darling please," he pleaded tiredly, "I could put you under if you want."_

_  
Finally there was a shuffling. A face peeked at him cautiously, glowering at the piece on his hand. Ostaros pointed at the medslab and shook his head, another point to the piston, then he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. Mesothulas sat himself on the floor and patted his thigh._

_  
Ostaros climbed onto his lap and hugged his neck tight. Mesothulas choked, at least his strength was still in good condition. "That's it darling. You are so brave, I'm so proud of you."_

_  
He could feel Ostaros' plating flare in pride, distracting him as Mesothulas deftly unbolted his back panel. He flinched as Mesothulas switched the old piston for a new one with a couple quick flicks of his wrist. Hands rubbed down his back once he was done._

_  
"See, nothing too bad," he hushed._

_  
He got a glare for his effort. Mesothulas silently wondered how he was going to tell Ostaros that he was due for a full internal recalibration some time soon. He sighed, petting Ostaros on the shoulder._

_  
"You'll get used to it one day, love," Mesothulas brushed his faceplate against Ostaros's head in a kiss. "Even if you don't, I'll be here with you."_

 

* * *

~~~~

Leeway thumped him on the shoulder, "Y'all take care now. Ya sure you don want Exhaust to look ya up? He's a quantum engineer but..." he eyed Springer's new build dubiously then back to Tarantulas who was pressing his audial up against the hull of the ship.

  
"Positive," Springer pulled his jack off after downloading the map, retracting the cable and patting Leeway's arm in thanks. "When has his works ever failed you Lee?"

  
Leeway raised his hands in surrender but it didn't remove the worried wrinkle between his eyes. "This the best I could do for y'all. It's a crazy world and y'all are crazy folks. But if Primus is gonna get some miracle done some time soon, who knows," he shrugged. "Might see a couple'a familiar faces when we drop stuff over at some of em secret facilities."

  
Springer grinned. "Maybe." He was going to miss the old sod.

  
The courier ship took off to Rodion with little fanfare, hardly a sight compared to the traffic of shuttles, jets, and hovercraft. There goes the last remnants of home. No going back now. A tentative grip squeezed his palm, Tarantulas gave him a comforting gaze and he smiled back in response.

  
No, home had never left him in the first place.

  
The dock they're at lead to a long and wide wharf, vendors moored their small shuttle-cum-makeshift stall, peddling their wares. Shouting to be heard over the commotion. The place was packed to the nines, Springer hold Tarantulas' hand tighter as they were jostled, using his own bulk to part the crowds.

  
Minibots weaved in between their legs, titans blocked the sun and casted shadows. There was a beautiful twinkle of choir from a group of religious zealots, eyes blinded and matrix tattoos decorating their frames. _Extinguish your spark ignite the sun_ , they sang. _We will all be one. Till all are one._

  
Exiting the port was both a chore and an adventure. The _LL_ port was once a space station which had had either a nasty landing or a gentle crash, towering almost as big as the city itself. Someone vandalized the rusted sign near the entryway, rearranging the glyph from _Luna's Lover_ to _Luna's Lust_. A far cruder translation in certain dialects.

  
The city of Adertois rose high in the background, blinding fluorescent light blended into flashing neon the lower it goes. The brightness casting even darker shadows in the gutters, cloaking them like a shameful mistake.

  
Springer hefted his pack higher up his back, Tarantulas copying the gesture. A wave of nostalgia washed over him.

  
"Well," Springer held his chin up high. "Here we are again."


	2. Where else is left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gesticulating helplessly*  
> Im posting an image because this thing just wont come out in words.  
> If there's no image showing I really appreciate someone telling. Or else i have a very big problem with the last chapter.

* * *

 

"They're checking for spark signatures, did you put on your concealer?"

  
"Yes Ma," Springer replied distractedly.

  
"Okay, good..." Tarantulas adjusted his stance atop the waste pipe, hands behind his head gripping the window sill as he stared across the distance. The satellite tower stood ominously among the throng of people lining up before the toll. Enforcers were stationed all over the entryway, their brandished weapons a loud testament to the repercussion of resistance.

  
Below them the officer patrolling the alley yawned. "Fragin slumhole," he mumbled as he sidestepped another puddle of grime.

  
Footsteps came closer to the edge of the rooftop. They plastered themselves closer to the walls, blending into the shadows, holding their breath in the silence until the footstep moved away again. Springer silently lodged his staff deeper into the waste drain, briefly grateful of the clogging muck for the support. With one foot braced on the wall, he reached out across the gap.

  
Something shifted in the drain and his staff tilted down with a loud clunk.

  
The footsteps above froze. The officer below tilted his head in concentration, surveying the alleyway cautiously. With the new angle of the pole Springer could not move back without bringing attention, stuck suspended between two buildings and two enforcers. He struck a quick calculation for an escape, the worst case scenarios crowding him in every alternatives.

  
The tension lasted for a moment before both enforcers moved again. "Gutter rats," officer whiner grumbled. Any moment longer his impulsiveness was going to make him choose the painful and rash decision. Not the fun type of painful rash either.

  
Springer didn't spare a moment of hesitation as he gripped the staff above his helm with both hands, the ball of one foot pushing on the wall as he spread his leg. Reaching out across the gap with his foot as far as he could. Tarantulas carefully stepped on the offered foothold. Wobbling slightly as he climbed up Springer's body, up his shoulders until he tiptoed on both fists to reach the grilled window above. The staff gave a worrying creak.

[](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/MainstreamHecker/media/IMG_0771_zpslnq5ekow.jpg.html)

  
Once he had safely climbed up, Springer swung himself upside down. Hooking his ankles on the grill, he dislodged the staff along with half of the muck holding it in place. The owner of the building would be grateful, probably. It transformed back to an unassuming tube with a push of a button. He wrinkled his nose as he put it between his teeth, tensing his abdominal cables and bending in half. Tarantulas caught his hand to help him up.

  
"Oh, there's a toll. Did we bring the spark signature concealer?"

  
"We already put it in Ma," Springer whispered, holstering the tube to his pack. His proprioceptors still not integrated at 100% he worried silently.

  
"We did?"

  
They moved along a ledge, hugging the walls. As they turned the corner Tarantulas slipped. Springer caught him by the scruff of his neck, sacrificing his own stability as he fell too. His other hand narrowly snatched the ledge, fingers slipping, pistons groaning as he gripped desperately.  
Voices came from around the corner as they dangled. Springer's feet scrambled. Trying and failing to gain traction on the smooth metal wall.

  
A hand reached to his back. Tarantulas tossed his compacted staff, the tube shifting mid air and stuck itself in between a narrow alley below. Forming a makeshift bar.

  
Springer jumped. He miscalculated, knocking the heel of his foot on the pole. It knocked on his hip strut and slammed his spine painfully, but he finally got a grip as they fell. Their momentum dislodging it from the walls. Springer clutched Tarantulas closer to his chest as they tumbled to the ground.

  
Not the smoothest landing, but at least they're there.

  
"Who's there!!"

  
"You idiot!" A thump, "You don't go asking who's there."

  
Springer dusted them off, not that it would have made them look any better than the locals. Out of the alley and into the crowds they went, casually blending in.

  
A siren blared loudly.

  
"HEY YOU!!" An officer cried out.

  
Everyone stilled, everyone thinking they were the one being called out. Nobody in Adertois was innocent of an arrest warrant. The screens decorating the tower previously displaying instructions and propaganda flashed an image. Someone in the crowds panicked, transformed, and flew away.

  
He didn't get far before an electromagnetic barrier shocked him into a crash. The crowds went back to their own affair, deaf to his cries as he pleaded for mercy.

  
Springer squeezed Tarantulas' hand as he willed his spark to stop pulsing like mad. Convinced that they could smell his fear.

  
Beside him Tarantulas rummaged his pack, "Sweetspark where's the spark concealer? I'm sure it was here somewhere."

* * *

 

~~~~

_"Now open wide~"_

_Ostaros spread his jaw open, squinting at the odd stretching of soft metal on his face. Closing and opening it again to test the newness. Mesothulas laughed at his curiosity._

_"This," he pinched the mesh around his mouth. Ostaros flinched back in surprise at the stimulation of sensors he had never had before. Mesothulas laughed again. "This is your lips."_

_Fingers brushed on his faceplate, mirroring the gesture. "I don't have one," he answered the silent question. "But I'm sure you can make it work darling. You are going to be the epitome of making it work."_

_Mesothulas ran the scanner again, checking the integration of the voice box into the system. He palpated Ostaros's throat. "Ready?"_

_He received a nod in response._

_"Now say something."_

_"Sfpppting,"_

_"Oh dear, uh..." he double checked the scanner. Mesothulas, flashed a light down Ostaros's mouth, percussed the panel on his neck. Everything looks fine. He wrung his hands in worry. "Try saying energon."_

_"Nnyerjn."_

_"Tab?"_

_"Tpp."_

_Mesothulas blinked. "Say that again."_

_"Tepp!" Ostaros clenched his hands in concentration. Glaring at Mesothulas in betrayal as he laughed again._

_"I should have known I'm not the best candidate to teach someone how to use a mouth," he chuckled, "apparently it's not so easy to synchronize your voice box and oral structure. Should have given you a better example."_

_He rubbed his chin and hummed. The only person he knew, the only trusted person, that has a mouth is..._

_"Msthllpff."_

_Mesothulas shook himself from his thoughts. "I think you have to open your mouth first?" He smiled encouragingly._

_"Aashtakhh."_

_"No, no, you have to open and close it in intervals. In time with the ummm... consonants?"_

_Ostaros made another incomprehensible noise, stomping his foot in frustration. Mesothulas could only scratch his head. This was harder than he thought. And he was supposed to be a genius._

_"If you want something-" a hand held onto his elbow when he reached for the datapad. Ostaros stubbornly shook his head, spitting more sounds from his mouth._

_"Mashthkhh!!"_

_"Darling-"_

_"Mastataph!" He insisted._

_"Love, I'm sorry but I really-"_

_He froze, realization hitting him like a shock of lightning. Mesothulas lunged forwards and cupped Ostaros' cheek is his hands._

_"Did you just..." he asked disbelievingly._

_"Masathlakh," nodded Ostaros._

_Mesothulas laughed wetly, pressing their forehead together. Ostaros squinted his eyes, copying him to show his own joy. He didn't know how to smile Mesothulas realized._

_"Just," he sniffed. "Just call me Ma. For now. Mesothulas is too overrated anyway." He nuzzled their head together._

_"Ma!"_

_He sobbed in response._

 

* * *

 

  
  


 

~~~~

Adertois was more forgiving of people going out than going in but that contributes to the fact that anyone willing to traverse beyond was on their own. Especially North, where the bare lands crumbled and the skies a crackling nightmare for fliers. The suicide graveyard some said.

 

Some conspirationalist theorized that when the _LL_ introduced itself to the surface of the planet, on such desolate land, it was deliberate. A mass suicide or a massacre. Waste disposal. But the brittle disgrace of natural geography finally proved to be slightly less useless than just an intimidation from Primus' part as it manage to conserve most of the structure of the space station.

 

Until now the _LL_ functions as a stepping stone that connects the vast gap between the hemisphere. A resting spot. The island amidst acid waste. Any efforts to exploit the surrounding land was met with cave ins, landslide, the ground exploding from within as it raged against any trespassers.

 

_The pit will peek to the surface, death proposed as a boon_ , Springer once heard from a folksong way back. _Your salvation comes in an Asteroid shattered by the fragment of the moon._

 

The mech Springer had asked eyed him skeptically when he had asked about the Tempest Plateau. "People don't go there. Nothing is there. Why? What do you look for?"

 

He could feel eyes from all around the pub at the back as his neck at the question. Claws clanking on glasses of engex, greed wafting from their seams like steam. "Just asking," he drawled, "Came a far way from home. A waste disposer don't really get to get this far out y'know?"

 

"You are big waste disposal."

 

"Them waste come big from where I came from," he shrugged, already thinking of how to cut his losses without bringing further suspicion.

 

"Big waste," stout and stocky hummed, "for big skeleton."

 

All his other enquiries resulted no better. He only risked their safety looking for answers in the city populated with the shifty eyed and twitchy hands. The very thing Ankain was becoming, just like every city they had left behind in their wake. They were running out of city, out of options. Crazy worlds and crazy folks lead to crazy choices huh Leeway.

 

"Ma you doing alright back there?"

 

"Just fine love. I think I should ask you that."

 

"Good. Just good. But I need you to hold on tighter a bit."

 

Springer felt the arms and legs around him squeeze, he hefted Tarantulas up higher on his back, adjusting the belt that hung his pack above his aft. Slender fingers brushed his crooked nose, broken so many times he barely noticed the dry crusted energon from when he slammed his face on the cliff during their climb up the plateau.

 

"Love you're hurt. I can walk just fine."

 

The cogs on his shoulder groaned in complaint from bearing their weights and supplies. The scrape on his knees tingled, there was a slight rattling sound on his ankle. Probably a pebble, possibly a loose bolt. Springer wrapped the wriggling thigh back around his waist with sore dented fingers when Tarantulas tried to get off.

 

"How about you stay on a bit longer."

 

"Sweetspark-"

 

"Come on Ma, for me?"

 

A sigh, "... alright."

 

Springer patted the forearm around his neck and started walking. Grateful to be back on horizontal surface after hours spent on the climb up from the canyon. Hardly that long compared to the days they had been trekking the treacherous land, the journey a long stretch of unforgiving geography intent on hindering them. Or at least bring them out of their misery.

 

The horizon overhead flickered with lightning from the constant electromagnetic storm, the mountain's shadow stretched as the sun sets, slowly cloaking them in darkness.

 

"Sweetspark-"

 

"Shh Ma, it's okay."

 

Tarantulas struggled to get off. Springer effortlessly clutched him tighter.

 

"Love. Let's stop. Just-"

 

"Ma, it's fine,"

 

"No no nonono. It's dark."

 

"Just close your eyes. Come on Ma, just listen to my spark-"

 

"No! Let. Go! I don't want to-"

 

"Ma its okay! Stay still everything's-"

 

"NO!! Springer-" he sobbed, "please..."

 

Springer clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth until they squealed. He steeled himself as he trudged on forward regardless of Tarantulas' plea. Thunder shook the ground, the night's sky darker without the company of the moon and stars. Lightning flashed, bathing them with blinding light at irregular intervals.

 

Tarantulas spasmed, static spitting from his joints. His flailing arm knocked on Springer's face, making his lip bleed, but the pain was insignificant to the guilt weighing on his spark. Still he did not stop. They could not afford the time lost with every nocturnal breaks anymore.

 

Springer reminded himself of the meager yield of their energon refiner, the low level of the fuel tube powering it. The empty repetitive stretch of land. There was only so much Springer could do to for Tarantulas before the lack of stimulation brings his mind into a state of idleness. With every passing day he took longer to reboot. Longer moments of sudden catatonia.

 

Springer could not bear the empty look in his eyes, the static that flashed from his optics. He selfishly marched on, ignoring the wetness on his back as Tarantulas leaked himself.

 

"It's okay Ma," he tucked Tarantulas's head into the crook of his neck as he went limp. "It's fine. I'm here. I'm right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You know that one time. The time where the universe unfolds itself within your head; expanding, evolving, and your talent and creativity struggles to catch up. Where it cries for release from its physical restriction and you just. Have to. You have to do it despite your limitations because it has been possessing your own body and mind, making you do involuntary actions." I told nobody in particular.
> 
> "Haha what :D" one of my dear friends will probably say, bless her soul. "You're so weird lol. Do whatever you want let your heart be free." I miss her. No, she's not dead.
> 
> The other one will look at me with pity, "No, i never had that happen to me," she will say, maybe. "No, really. People don't usually hear footsteps following them from behind when nobody's around." Wait, for real? She will casually mention her mother, possibly. A lovely lady. Nice. Supportive. A psychiatrist.
> 
> "What's this? Did you make something?" My own mother will ask as she click on my username despite my protest. She screech, "IS THAT PORN?!"
> 
> My sister will text me, "when will you stop having these conversations in your head? By assigning them the personality of the people around you, you are exaggerating the characteristics you familiarize with your companions. It's unfair to them and builds up prejudice, contaminating your bonds between each other."
> 
> That's not my sister. The text read with a juxtaposed echo. I name it Suhaila now. After that one girl when I was 11.
> 
> The voice cringed. Hopefully. Or at least look chastised. But it's a high chance it wont. Amazing how little control you possess of your own thoughts.
> 
> "Why are you doing this?" Someone screamed.
> 
> Suhaila rose from a burning wreck, a towering hooded figure with glowing eyes and sharp glinting maws. There is a knife in my hand.
> 
> "Why are you doing this!"
> 
> The ground shook and split, the blood of the world spitting out in a burning rage.
> 
> "Why are you doing this," I whispered to myself in front of my iPad, curled up on the sofa with my blanket around me. "This is just an end note. An unnecessary end note."
> 
> My finger halted above the backspace key. I revised the words above.
> 
> "Holy shit. It's better than the actual fic." I convinced myself as I posted this atrocity. I sipped my tea. Black and mint with two teaspoons of sugar. The voice of reason drowned among the deafening cacophony inside my head.


	3. Here I am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: swearing and general unpleasant rude words in the end note. Embarrassing word vomit, please skip it if it makes you uncomfortable, very lazy drawing with empty background
> 
> Past me had this very intense emotion, now im calm and controlled. I know better, I wasn't quite happy with how the whole thing turned out but the kindle that started this flared my imagination in a way it hadn't been in a long time. Reminding me the joy of /creation/, in a way I relate to Tarantulas. You always torture your favorites. And i just want to share that line of thoughts that reignited my muse.
> 
> *deap breaths*

[](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/MainstreamHecker/media/IMG_0756_zpsr3qjrslr.jpg.html)

 

[](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/MainstreamHecker/media/IMG_0757_zpsyl6xxanr.jpg.html)

 

[](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/MainstreamHecker/media/IMG_0754_zpsodvp70tg.jpg.html)

 

[](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/MainstreamHecker/media/IMG_0758_zps24pi01o8.jpg.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this i cant believe this is happening are you kidding me are you actually fucking serious holy shit holy fucking shit ive been stalling on reading sotw and when i did i have to make this content on my own are yall wven serious do you think this is a joke a lot of people already read thid comic im pretty sure and i am the one that have to make this thing how dare you how dare you not cater to my silent need why are you doing this no dont touch me dont look at me dont even breathe how could you do this how could you do this to me i havent drawn since i was 17 and im drawing a full blown comic out of spite at this fucking heresy this felony this full out bullshit with no digital talent only an ipad camera a stuby eraser and a piss of a 2b pencil like holy hell i actually have to use a sharperner and each grate is the physical embodiment of my fury all this time i didnt give a shit and when i gave my shits all i saw is this elephant diarrhea of a minator bullshit of an empty parental love content im apalled im offended im pissed to tge sun and beyond i did character studies of these fuckers comic blueprint brainstorming on that one sketch book my friend gave as a present in hopes ill get my enthusiasm back goddam did you see that word how can i ever look at her in the face again now that i draw this abomination for a robot furry fandom as my first drawing in all these years because all i ever saw is that one motherfucking motherfucker son of a fuck prowl and his busty bumper boob like god i just want to enjoy hedonistic relief in the form of pretty little big fictional creatures yet you let me suffer this atrocious outrage of ignorance goddamit godfucking dammit holy piss licking hell are we seriously doing this i will fight you i will break my drought again and draw a comic of brainstorm and chromedome and theyll hold hands and ill make them get platonically married i swear to god and you will feel the wholesome pure love dont test me


End file.
